


Repercussions

by marysiak



Series: Harry Potter and the Midlife Crisis [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Cursed Child, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Infidelity, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7360447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marysiak/pseuds/marysiak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a few months after the events in Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. There are minimal spoilers in this, I do not discuss the main plot of the play or even many of the events, only really a few of the discussions between Harry and Draco. Harry and Draco have started meeting up for drinks, are they becoming friends or is something else going on? This is marked as explicit and there are explicit scenes, but it's mostly talking head stuff. Perhaps because I would have liked to have seen more discussions and character stuff and less action in the play itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After going through so much together, Harry found it strangely natural to start meeting up with Draco Malfoy for drinks once in a while. Sometimes even with Ron in tow. But he never really made it clear to Ron just how often Draco and he met up without him.

The thing was that he could talk to Draco in a way he never talked to anyone else. Or more precisely he could whinge to Draco. And once he got a bit of alcohol in his system he could whinge for England. He was so bad that after a while they started meeting at Draco’s place instead of the pub, so that Harry’s long-winded, and often high volume, rants wouldn’t make the other punters nervous. It wasn’t wise to let the general wizarding public hear their Golden Boy and Head of Magical Law Enforcement complain vituperously about how much he hated his bloody job.

Before long it was a standing arrangement, at least while the kids were back at school. Drinks with Draco every Friday night. Not a secret, Ginny knew where he was, and thought it was probably good that he had a bloke to talk to who wasn’t her brother. She didn’t know quite how bladdered he often got, though she must have had a vague idea. She was usually asleep when he got home.

There was something very pleasing about Draco, as an audience to his profound irritation with his life. Draco had developed a blunt honesty in the long years since school, something Harry suspected was a reaction to being hated by half the wizarding world. Draco no longer gave a fuck what people thought of him, unless it affected his son’s reputation. He was still a Slytherin, but his weapon of choice seemed to be a stark and almost confrontational honesty, tiny little bombs of truth placed carefully amid acres of stoic silence.

They would start off each evening with a bit of small talk and some dinner before Harry embarked on getting plastered and Draco carefully considered whether to join him or not. Some nights he wouldn’t, staying irritatingly sober and controlled as Harry got less and less coherent. Other nights he would match Harry drink for drink until they could both barely stand.

But even drunk, Draco wasn’t much of a talker.

Harry was a talker. He told Draco things he admitted to no-one else, not even Ginny. Because Draco wouldn’t say anything back. He wouldn’t get upset or concerned or anxious or angry. He just listened and nodded, gave the odd pithy comment or startling emotional revelation of his own. He never made it about himself, which Harry found both comforting and bizarre given that teenage Draco had been the biggest narcissist he’d ever met, well barring Malfoy Snr and Voldemort himself. But then maybe he still was, so self involved that he felt no need to get overly involved in Harry’s issues.

Whatever the fuck it was that went on in Draco’s head, Harry liked it. He even liked those startling emotional bombshells. It made him feel important and trusted. And he supposed that was pretty narcissistic too. But hearing Draco state out loud how lonely he was made Harry feel warm and needed for just being there.

And he couldn’t help but think back to that first time they had properly talked. When Draco had found him in tears in his office after speaking to Dumbledore’s portrait. And said just the right things to let Harry pull himself back together and not feel like an idiot. And then bared his own heart with quiet directness. It had been a paradigm shifting moment for Harry. The moment when he had suddenly realised that not only could he be this man’s friend, but that he wanted to be.

Not that they never argued, but he quite liked it when they did. There was no bitterness to it, just two people with a long history letting out a bit of tension. It was almost fun. Especially the petty insults, they reminded him of being thirteen and almost happy. Unweighed down by guilt and responsibility and all the shit that came with being a grown up and the saviour of the wizarding world.

It had been a bad week at the office. A really bad week.

As a result, he was exceedingly hammered and pacing in a wavering line up and down Draco’s front room frantically gesticulating as Draco sat on the sofa and listened, not quite as drunk as Harry, but drunk enough to be going along with. It was always hard to tell how drunk Draco was because he didn’t wander around the room like a crazy person and he talked without slurring, just a bit more carefully, no matter how much he’d had.

“And I don’t know why they expect this time to be any different than all the other bloody times. I’m shit at paperwork. I’ve been shit at paperwork since I fucking started as a junior bloody Auror and it didn’t stop them promoting me and promoting me and fucking promoting me again did it! If they wanted someone who was going to do bloody due diligence then they should have given Percy arsing Weasley the job. If they wanted someone who was going to read all the shite they dump on my desk then they should have left Hermione in charge instead of making her the bloody Minister of Magic! What the fuck do they expect from me!!!” he ended his rant facing Draco down as if demanding some sort of answer. “WHAT??!!”

“Damned if I know,” replied Draco. “You’re terrible at your job.”

“Yes!” shouted Harry. “Yes I am! I am terrible at my job! The only bit of my job I’m any good at is when I go out and play at still being an Auror and beat up some bad guys and I’m not even supposed to be doing that!”

Harry fell dramatically to his knees in front of Draco, although it might have been unintentional as he was fairly unsteady on his feet at the moment and standing still had probably been too much for him. But he went with it anyway. “I am the worst Head of Magical Law Enforcement of all time. Worse even than whatever bastard was doing it when Voldemort was in charge.”

“You are,” agreed Draco accommodatingly. “You are worse than Yaxley by a long shot. Well not morally, but in pretty much every other way.”

“Thank you,” said Harry with feeling. “Do it again, tell me how awful I am.”

“Potter, a blind kneazle could do a better job than you do.”

“Yes,” said Harry in the throws of some sort of rapture. He collapsed onto Draco’s leg grinning. “I am worse than a blind kneazle. Don’t stop.”

Draco peered at Harry where he lay with his head in Draco’s lap. He tried to decide whether he was drunk enough to deal with this, but he was drunk enough that no obvious answer presented itself. “Your hair is an embarrassment,” he tried. “And that ridiculous waistcoat you wear only makes it obvious you spend far too much time sitting behind a desk. Have you even heard of bespoke tailoring?”

“Brilliant,” mumbled Harry into Draco’s leg. “I am ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.” He seemed pretty happy about that fact.

“You certainly are.” Before he could really think through his actions that carefully Draco patted Harry on the head.

Harry hummed and rubbed his cheek against Draco’s leg, his body limp and heavy, clearly half way to unconsciousness.

Draco stroked a hand through his hair and thought about how long it had been since he’d been this physically close to another adult. Not since… well. Not since Astoria had died. And that was a slightly sobering thought.

He hadn’t sought out human contact since then. For a long time it had been intentional, and then it had just been habit. He had never been touchy feely anyway, hadn’t been brought up that way. But he was still human, still craved physical contact. One of the many things he had been jealous about as a child, and as an adult. The casual way Ron Weasley would just throw his arms across his friend’s shoulders, grab them for a hug, touch a hand or ruffle someone’s hair.

He was still playing with Harry’s hair. It was surprisingly pleasant for all that it looked like a birds nest. He massaged Harry’s scalp and Harry turned and pushed into his hand. Not asleep after all then. His hand was close to Harry’s face now and he let it slide down to trace the stubble along his jaw. Harry smiled and arched his neck, moving in a way that was a little too sensual.

Draco let his hand drop away.

“Get up Potter.”

“Hmm?” Harry’s eyelids fluttered open. He looked completely blissed out. Or just entirely trashed.

“It’s late,” Draco said, his voice unusually rough. “Ginny will be wondering where you are.”

“Right, yeah,” Harry muttered and struggled his way off the floor using Draco’s legs to get himself up. “See you next week.” And he was obediently round the sofa and through the floo and away.

Draco let out a slow unsteady breath that he hadn’t realised he was holding. Then he adjusted his trousers where they were pressed tight against his erection.

He had known he was attracted to Harry for a long time, ever since he was seventeen. He had spent that year re-evaluating huge swathes of his life as it fell apart around him. And one of the many things he had realised was that he missed looking at Potter. But it had been a largely irrelevant discovery.

He had explored his interest in men well enough in the few years after the war, when he had let a self destructive streak take him through a string of one night stands fueled by a fair amount of alcohol and semi-legal potions. All that had come to an end when he met Astoria again. She had been at school with them of course, but being a few years below had scarcely been deemed worthy of notice. Astoria had taken him in hand and within a matter of weeks he had cleaned up his act and was head over heels in love in a way he had never expected for himself.

He felt his eyes prickle as they often did when he was tipsy and let Astoria come to mind. It was definitely time for bed.

–

When Harry stumbled into his room Ginny was as usual asleep, he had no idea what time it was. He fished a hangover potion out of his bedside drawer and downed it in one before stripping clumsily and passing out as soon as he hit the sheets.

The next morning he awoke parched and stiff but mostly intact. He lay still for a moment gathering his senses slowly to him. He had a strange memory of someone stroking his hair, it was nice and he considered it peacefully until his stomach rumbled loudly. The hangover potion he’d taken in advance prevented any headache or nausea, but his stomach was crying out for food.

Ginny was already up and he stumbled downstairs in a dressing gown and headed straight for the kettle.

“Late night then, love?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah. I didn’t wake you did I, when I came home?”

“Nope, I was out like a light. How is Draco?”

“Fine, same as always,” Harry said absently. He had a momentary recollection of kneeling at Draco’s feet and demanding to be told how terrible he was at his job. He shook his head with a half smile as he got together the ingredients for an epic fry up. It wouldn’t be the first time he had drunkenly embarrassed himself in front of Draco and it almost certainly wouldn’t be the last.

His good mood lasted most of the weekend as they visited with Molly and Arthur, started work on the pond he wanted to put into the garden and generally puttered around like the boring old married couple they were. His mood didn’t falter until dinner time on Sunday when it nose dived as he remembered in a rush that, just because Draco had told him he was a truly terrible Head of Magical Law Enforcement, nothing had actually changed and he still had to go in to work tomorrow morning and the morning after and every day of his life for the foreseeable future.

His emotions snapped so fast in the opposite direction that when Ginny asked him what had gotten him all tied up all of a sudden, he had snapped at her, and they had ended up fighting and going to bed not speaking to each other.

And so the week had gone.

As irritating and frustrating as last week had been this week was infinitely worse. He stormed out of Draco’s floo at half past seven on Friday, straight from work, and marched into the dining room where Draco was already sat waiting for him.

“I’m going to quit my job!” he declared as he walked through the door. “I need to quit my job. I should right? I should quit my job. I’m going to. I’m going to, do you think I should? I hate it, I hate it. I should right, shouldn’t I? Should I?” He fell into the chair next to Draco staring at him helplessly. “I should… right?”

Draco looked him over. “The fact that you are asking me to make your life decisions for you is only further proof that you shouldn’t be in charge of anything,” he said dryly.

“Then I should?”

Draco sighed. “Do you really want to quit your job?”

“Yes! Yes. I want to quit more than anything. I would sell my… well no I wouldn’t sell my first born if it meant I could quit. But I would seriously consider it, and then I wouldn’t do it because it would be wrong. But I would think about it, a lot.”

Draco arched an eyebrow at Harry’s rambling.

“Do you think they would let me go back to being an Auror?” Harry asked wistfully.

Draco began to serve himself food. “Might be a bit awkward.”

“It just wouldn’t work, would it,” Harry groaned. “I never should have let them promote me the first time. But then it never really did work, I was terrible at taking orders and they were all uncomfortable trying to tell me what to do.”

“Going into the Ministry was an interesting choice for someone who never saw a rule he didn’t want to break,” Draco noted.

“Yes, well. I’d wanted to be an Auror since I was 15. Made sense at the time. I was supposed to defeat Voldemort and I thought to do that I’d need to learn everything about fighting the bad guys that I could… I didn’t realise yet I’d be finishing the job before I even finished school. And then once it was all over… well it was just what I’d planned to do, so I did it.” Harry was piling his own plate with food as he talked. “Never even got my NEWTS, they said I didn’t need them, that I clearly knew enough. The head of Magical Law Enforcement and not one single NEWT to my name.”

“A travesty,” said Draco. Who, at the time it had all occurred, had indeed thought it a complete travesty and been utterly furious about it.

“I think they promoted me because I was so bad at taking orders, they were all much more comfortable with me telling them what to do. And it was alright at first, there were a lot of Death Eater cases still needing wrapped up, it was like I was just finishing what I started.” Harry stuffed a large forkful of food into his mouth and chewed wistfully.

Draco watched him in silence. He had helped with some of those cases, though from a distance. Giving information and advice on the people being hunted via his case worker. Anonymity had been his only demand in return.

When Harry swallowed he said, “You know I think I really am going to quit.” He sounded quietly surprised.

Neither of them said anything for a long while, just eating, Harry looking into the distance and Draco looking at Harry.

“What will you do instead,” Draco asked finally.

“No idea,” Harry replied. “Hermione is going to murder me, so it may be a moot point. I’ll probably have to go into hiding.”

“What do you think you would have done, if things hadn’t gone the way they did?” Draco remembered their first real conversation when he had admitted to Harry that all he’d really wanted in life was to play professional Quidditch. He had actually tried out for a couple of teams when he had been 18. As if anyone would have let a Death Eater onto their roster, even if he had been good enough. Which he hadn’t. None of his childhood dreams had worked out the way he’d planned.

“I suppose I probably would have tried to play Quidditch like Ginny did, although even if I had I’d be too old to play professionally by now.”

“Stevenson played till he was 46,” Draco noted absently. He bet Potter would have got on a team, probably wouldn’t have even had to try out. But he wasn’t bitter about it anymore, not really. It was just the way his life was.

“Yeah, but he was a Beater,” said Harry. “Seekers hardly ever play past their early 30s.”

“I suppose.”

“I felt bad for Ginny actually,” Harry continued. “I could say we never meant to start a family so young… but it’d be a lie. I wanted a child as soon as we could and I never really thought about how it would affect her career until it was too late.”

“How old was she when you had James, 23?”

“Not even, she was 22. She’d only been on the team a couple of years before she was too pregnant to play and then she was only back less than a year before she was off again with Albus and she decided not to try and go back. Molly would have looked after the kids, but we agreed it was wrong that we not bring them up ourselves while they were so young.”

“Hmm.”

Draco was keeping his thoughts to himself again, Harry noted. There was always a distinct difference between Draco having nothing of interest to say and Draco purposefully not saying something he was thinking. Harry had learned not to pry, Draco was a steel trap when he didn’t want to comment, and he’d had enough arguments this week already.

They let the conversation ease off into less serious topics and after a bottle of wine between them with dinner, mostly drunk by Harry, they turned to Draco’s whisky collection as soon as they made it to the drawing room.

Draco was drinking lightly this evening and nursed a single glass to every three Harry drank his way through.

“Let’s go flying,” Harry said suddenly, nearly half a bottle of malt in.

“Now?”

“Yeah, we can play seeker to seeker. You’ve got room out there don’t you?”

“It’s nearly ten, we’ll never find a snitch out there. And you’re drunk.”

“Then tomorrow. I really want to, say you will. I can stay over and we can play in the morning. Ginny won’t mind. It’s been ages since I’ve been on a broom.”

“I’ll beat you, hands down,” said Draco, warming to the thought, though uncertain how good an idea it was for Harry to spend the night, after last time.

“No chance, I’ll never be that out of practice!” Harry declared, and before Draco could say anything else he had sent a Patronus message off to Ginny saying he would be home after lunch tomorrow.

Draco watched Harry’s stag canter away through the wall of the house. He hadn’t seen Harry’s patronus since third year, when it had charged him down on the quidditch pitch. It was a beautiful animal.

Harry fetched himself another large drink. “What you thinking?” he asked, sitting cross legged on the sofa so he could face across it to Draco who was sat at the other end.

“Nothing. You learned to cast that in third year, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged. “Needs must. I’ve never seen you cast one, what animal’s yours?”

Draco didn’t answer.

Harry prodded him with a foot, his shoes long discarded along with the ever present waistcoat. “Is it something embarrassing? Don’t tell me it’s a ferret, Ron’ll die laughing.”

Draco gave him a quelling look with no heat behind it. “It’s not a ferret,” he shifted. “I didn’t manage to cast one until well after the war. Mine’s a goose. Never could get it to take messages, though.”

Harry shrugged, his foot still touching Draco’s thigh. “Not many people can. I may be terrible at paperwork, but at least I have some useful skills.”

“One or two,” said Draco.

Harry downed his drink and stretched, moving down the sofa to lie out, throwing his legs over Draco’s lap.

Draco lifted his hands and his drink out the way and looked down in bemusement. He cast a quick cleansing charm on Harry’s socks.

Harry barely noticed. “Bloody awful week,” he muttered mostly to himself. He was pleasantly full of food and drink and the knowledge that he didn’t even have to arse himself to floo home, which was even less pleasant drunk than it was sober. “Bloody awful job.”

Within five minutes he had fallen asleep.

Draco pondered the situation and finished his own drink, letting his other hand rest on Harry’s calf. He put his glass down and rested his head back on the sofa. He allowed both hands to tuck comfortably around Potter’s legs. In a few minutes he realised he was growing dangerously close to dozing off himself, it was still a bit early in the autumn for the fire he’d had going all evening, and the house was too warm.

Right, bed time. He thought about waking Potter up, then decided not to bother. He lifted his legs up and stood, then cast mobilicorpus on Potter and floated him up the stairs to the guest bedroom.

He pulled the covers back and deposited him on the bed, still dead to the world. He was about to pull the covers over and head to his own bed when he was struck with a not entirely altruistic thought. A friend wouldn’t let a friend sleep in their clothes, he thought. He made a faintly mocking expression since no-one was awake to see it. Potter’s calves had felt firm and warm under his hands, down on the sofa. He wondered what they looked like.

Finally, he gave in and leant over to unbuckle Potter’s belt. For something that he knew he could entirely claim was just a bit of friendly assistance, it felt deeply illicit to be unfastening Harry’s trousers while he lay asleep. It was turning him on more than a little bit, but he wasn’t a teenager unable to control his impulses. He cast mobilocorpus again to lift Harry high enough off the bed to strip off his trousers and then let him lie back down.

Making sure not to think too much about it while he was still in the room he ran his eyes lightly over Harry’s legs. For all that he had teased him last week for being out of shape, Harry wasn’t really. Not as toned as Draco, who had a punishingly rigorous exercise routine that helped pass the time in an empty house, but not too bad at all. He stripped off his socks and deposited them on top of his trousers, then turned to his top half.

He unbuttoned Harry’s shirt quickly and methodically to reveal a black vest, but rather than use mobilicorpus again he gave in to the temptation to physically lift Harry’s torso off the bed to strip the shirt down his arms and off. Harry’s chest pressed warmly to his own and his head fell over Draco’s shoulder.

And as so often seemed to happen in his life, he found himself the victim of his own poor life choices. Lifting Harry bodily roused him enough out of his drunken slumber to react. He mumbled something and turned his face in towards Draco’s neck, then as Draco tried to place him back down without waking him completely he threw both arms around Draco and pulled him tightly down onto his chest. Still asleep but clinging like a limpet.

Whatever workout routine Harry had it was good enough to make it impossible to break his grip without waking him up. Draco was just resigning himself to having to do that when Harry shifted and rolled over, tumbling Draco with him and pinning him to the bed underneath him.

Draco lay there slightly dizzy and startled as Harry resettled, still holding on like a child with a favourite toy.

Okay, this was… this was not… this was ridiculous. Draco lay still for a few minutes then tried to slide out of Harry’s grip, but the slightest movement of escape led to a renewed tightening of Harry’s arms and the leg that was thrown over his thighs.

Perhaps when he quit his job Potter should consider a career in pit wrestling, Draco thought slightly hysterically. He couldn’t even reach his wand, which was on the far bedside table.

There was no way he was waking Potter up now, not in as compromising a position as this. He would just have to wait. Eventually Potter would fall back deeply enough asleep that he wouldn’t feel Draco moving and he’d relax enough to slide out from under him and then no-one need ever know this had even happened.

But quarter of an hour and several attempts later Draco still hadn’t got away and eventually he lay still and quiet waiting long enough that he ended up falling fast asleep himself.

–

Draco woke feeling confused. He was in bed with someone. His mouth tasted foul, and was he still wearing his trousers? What? He cracked an eye as he ascertained that he was lying half on top of someone with his significant morning wood pressed against their warm hip.

Harry. He was lying on top of Harry. Still dressed in his trousers and shirt from last night.

As he blinked and moved the hand lying across Harry’s chest slightly, Harry opened his eyes.

Draco watched him cautiously as Harry did a similar mental run down of where he was.

“Ouch,” said Harry. “I drank a lot of whisky.”

“Yes,” said Draco cautiously and tried to casually roll away. He made it about two inches before Harry’s arm tightened around his waist, where Draco had been lying on it, and stopped him moving any further. He let his leg relax back but managed to keep his crotch away from any further physical contact.

“I was on the sofa,” Harry said glancing around the room.

“Yes,” said Draco.

He glanced down. “I had trousers on then.”

“Yes,” said Draco. “I… took them off.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You were asleep, you fell asleep on the sofa and I was putting you to bed.” Draco’s voice was still very steady and his face betrayed no opinion on the situation.

“You still have your trousers on,” Harry said and looked down at them.

Draco was still hard, but he wasn’t sure how obvious it was. “Yes,” he said. “You… I was taking your shirt off and you… grabbed me,” he was choosing his words carefully. Harry looked dishevelled and lazy and sexy in the morning sunlight and it had been a very very long time since he had touched anyone like this.

“Yeah,” Harry said with a quirked smaile. “Ginny’s always complains about how grabby I am when I’m asleep.”

“I can confirm that she is not exaggerating.”

“Hmm,” said Harry. He was stretching out the moment for reasons he didn’t like to think about too hard. His hand still tight on Draco’s waist, holding him there. Draco’s hair was almost white in the early morning sunshine, messier than usual, and his body was warm and pleasant against Harry’s side. His face was as unreadable as it could be. He wanted quite badly to kiss him. Which was unusual but not entirely surprising. He’d found Draco attractive for years. Ever since enough time had passed after the war to stop blaming him for things that hadn’t really been his fault, and even more since Draco had turned out not to be an arsehole.

Harry had been attracted to boys for as long as he’d been attracted to girls. But he’d always set it aside as inconvenient. Never let it go further than ‘he’s a bit fit’ before putting the thought away. Oliver Wood, Cedric Diggory, Bill Weasley… As long as he liked girls too, he didn’t see any reason to ever do anything about it. And he and Ginny had got back together less than a year after the end of the war and been married not so very long after that.

But he still noticed when a guy was fit. And Draco was fit. Draco was very fit.

“I think I’m still a little drunk,” said Harry.

“Okay,” said Draco. His hand flexed slightly where it lay on Harry’s chest.

“Did you ever wonder,” said Harry. “What it might have been like if we’d been friends at school.”

Draco frowned slightly.

Harry was thinking about lying with his head in Draco’s lap last week, Draco’s fingers tracing down his jaw and brushing the side of his mouth. He’d thought about that a lot over the past seven days. He brought up his free hand and used it to bring Draco’s face down to his so that he could touch their lips together.

That was all it was, the momentary brush of closed lips. Enough of a distraction to let Draco forget to hold himself away and his hips rolled in to press back against Harry.

Harry’s eyes flickered down and back up. There was still only an inch between their mouths.

“Your breath smells,” said Draco. But his face was no longer shuttered and still. Emotion flickered all over it in tiny ways.

“So does yours,” Harry answered. His hand still holding the back of Draco’s head. Draco’s hair spilled forward from the half knot it was in, brushing against Harry’s collarbone.

Draco closed the gap and kissed Harry properly.

Their mouths were dry and sticky from not having brushed their teeth the night before. And it didn’t matter.

Harry rolled over to press Draco underneath him, deepening the kiss, finding the hollow of Draco’s hip with his own swelling cock. Making Draco groan into his mouth.

Draco’s hands found his shoulders and down to grab his backside and press in, squeezing hard.

And then Harry was pulling away, and for a breathless moment Draco thought he had misread things. But Harry was only making space to find the button of Draco’s trousers and open them up. Draco lifted his hips to help and in a struggle and muddle of kisses and groping hands they stripped each other bare as quickly as possible.

And then Harry was back on top of him, one hand curved around Draco’s erection, his eyes glued to it as he pressed his own hips down to slide his cock against it. Draco had eyes only for Harry’s face. Had to be sure, had to figure it out, had to understand.

“Merlin, you’re beautiful,” Harry gasped. His eyes flicking up and down over Draco’s body.

A burst of happy satisfaction chased through the body in question. Draco sparked with pleasure, he was beautiful. His body had never been in better shape, never been so chiselled and strong, and he had thought there was nobody to appreciate the frustrated lonely hours he had spent making it so. That it was for nothing but his own striving for perfection. “Wand,” he panted. “Need my wand.”

Harry glanced where Draco indicated and reached out for it, realising himself what it was needed for. He cast the spell himself, the wand familiar, “Lubricans.” He moaned as their erections slid smoothly past one another allowing him to press down firmer against Draco’s body, finding Draco’s mouth again as he dropped the wand onto the sheets.

It was a matter of instinct now. Two bodies thrusting together seeking rhythm, seeking sensation, looking for that final rush of desperate pleasure. Neither thinking of anything but the physical need that kept building and building. Harry fisted his hand hard into Draco’s hair and sucked on his tongue, his other hand under Draco’s body gripping one buttock and urging him on.

Draco got a hand between them and fisted it around both their cocks, squeezing them together as they thrust.

And now they were moments away, both of them, gasping and staring at each other, eyes flicking down to their joined cocks and back up. Closer and closer and Draco came first, shooting out across their chests, and the feel of it, the sight of it spilling over Draco’s fingers, smearing down his own cock, was the last thing Harry felt before he was coming himself.


	2. Chapter 2

  
They dozed off, still sticky with sweat and come and not especially inclined to do anything about it. But when Draco’s eyes flickered open again, one side of his body chilled by the lack of the covers and the other heated by the naked man sprawled over it, his thoughts were not calm.

“Fuck,” he said to the ceiling. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Hmm?” said Harry.

“Fuck,” said Draco.

“I don’t think I can get it up again just yet,” answered Harry.

“Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” Draco said plainly.

Harry peered up at him, one side of his face crinkled where it had been pressed against the pillow. “What do you mean?”

Draco brought his hand over Harry’s hand where it lay on his chest and tapped a finger firmly on the gold band on Harry’s ring finger.

“Ah… um… that is...” hedged Harry.

Draco let his hand drop away.

“I’ll tell her, I’ll tell her as soon as I get home,” said Harry finally into the silence.

“What?” Draco exploded out of bed, furious, spilling Harry onto his back. “Don’t you dare!”

“What?” Harry looked confused. “I thought...”

“I very much doubt that, you’ve never done it before,” snapped Draco, towering over him like an angry Apollonian deity.

Harry thought that actually, perhaps he could get it up again after all. Then tried to quash the thought as Draco was clearly deadly serious in his ire. “Then what...”

“I will not be blamed for this! I will not be the other bloody woman!”

“I’m pretty sure no one would mistake you for a...”

“Shut up, Potter!” Draco began to pace up and down the room, unintentionally giving Harry an excellent view of his body from every angle. “You will learn some discretion for once and keep your damn mouth shut.”

“And what, just cheat on Ginny behind her back! I may be a terrible husband and an incompetent father, but I won’t be a liar!” he rubbed unconsciously at the back of one hand and pulled the sheets around himself.

“And what exactly will you accomplish by telling her the truth!” Draco snapped back. “You’ll break her heart, ruin my reputation, destroy your marriage, and hurt our children. And why? To make you feel better about what you’ve already done? That isn’t honesty, it’s selfish idiocy.”

Harry looked hurt. “But what do I tell her then, when I tell her it’s over?”

“What?” Draco froze mid pace, almost stumbling. “What’s over?” he asked carefully.

“Well, the marriage. But then maybe you’re right, she would blame you, and so would Ron, and Molly would be furious if she thought I’d cheated on Ginny. And I’d deserve it… but it wouldn’t be fair to you, just when everyone’s started getting on...”

“You can’t leave your wife!”

“I can’t?”

“Oh Merlin’s balls,” swore Draco. “When it gets out that I’ve broken up the Saviour and his childhood sweetheart I won’t be able to leave the house without polyjuice. And what about Scorpius and Albus! This isn’t happening to me. Am I fucking cursed?”

“Draco,” Harry said, holding up a hand placatingly.

Draco sat heavily back down on the bed. “Fuck my life,” he swore, using a phrase he had often heard Scorpius use and that seemed entirely appropriate to the occasion. “Fuck it all to hell.”

Harry scooted over and laid a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Don’t you think you’re being a little over dramatic,” he suggested. He ran his hand down Draco’s back, fascinated by the layers and angles of muscle under skin. It had been a long time since he had felt this fascinated by someone else’s body, and maybe he was a terrible person, but he couldn’t shake the happiness he felt at being able to run his hands over Draco’s body. He brushed Draco’s hair to the side and kissed the nape of his neck.

Draco sighed, not moving away. “So let me get this straight, Potter. You’re going to quit your job?”

“Oh, yes,” hummed Harry, rubbing his cheek against the skin by Draco’s spine.

“And leave your wife?”

“I suppose so. Not really worth staying together for the kids is it, when they’re at Hogwarts most of the year anyway.” He pulled himself closer and ran his hands down Draco’s sides and on down his thighs.

“Maybe buy a brand new racing broom?”

“Um… I hadn’t thought about it. Maybe,” said Harry, a little thrown by the non-sequitur.

Draco laid his hands over Harry’s own to still them. “Have you considered that this might all be a mid life crisis and in a couple of years time you’ll realise you’ve thrown everything you’ve built down the toilet just because you fancied sowing some wild oats?”

Harry rested his chin on Draco’s shoulder and thought about it. Finally he said, “If you don’t want me to leave Ginny, then I won’t. But I won’t keep cheating on her either. So I guess it depends on what it is you want.”

Draco stood up fast, almost causing Harry to bite his own tongue off. “Oh no, Potter. No you don’t. Don’t you make this my choice. It’s your life and I won’t be held responsible for what you do with it.” He glared down at Harry again. “If you want to leave your wife, then leave her. If you want to stay, then stay. But don’t leave her just because you think you’ve got somewhere else to go, I never pegged you for a coward.”

“I’m not a coward, but if I break up my marriage then it should be for a good enough reason,” Harry tried to explain. “I love Ginny, and we’re… content together, mostly. But... I’m not in love with her and I haven’t been in a long time. Not that I’d have admitted that to anyone else. And I think maybe she’d say the same, if she was being honest. She’s my friend, and she’s the mother of our children. If I leave that it does have to be for something more than… than wild oats. My marriage isn’t a lie, but if I’m sleeping with you then it will be and… I really really want to sleep with you. And standing naked in front of me is really not helping me think about this logically.”

Draco made a sound of exasperation and began searching for his trousers. “I don’t know what you feel for Ginny,” he said pulling them on. “But it can’t matter what I want. If you can put this aside and get on with your life and be happy doing that, then do it. If you can’t, then leave. But do it because of what you want. And I think… I think maybe we shouldn’t see each other for a while.” Draco had finished dressing. “You should go home.”

Harry looked at him a little sadly. “You’re right, I suppose.” He paused, “But despite all that, I would still really like to know what you want.”

Draco lurked in the doorway, his face dark.

“Draco?” Harry asked softly.

Eventually he replied. “Everything, Potter. I want everything, I always have.” And then he walked away and wasn’t to be found when Harry looked for him.

–

Harry had breakfast in Draco’s dining room, Ginny wasn’t expecting him home until lunchtime, and Draco was nowhere to be found. He needed to decide exactly what he was going to do before he went anywhere else. He thought he should feel more guilty, in fact his main feeling of guilt was about the fact that he didn’t feel terribly guilty. There was an elation he couldn’t seem to shake. A sense of freedom that he had been missing for a long long time. Maybe since he was about 13, if he’d ever felt free in his life it was the day he’d found out he was a wizard, and it had been lost again sometime between Sirius nearly being executed despite being innocent and Cedric Diggory’s murder.

He thought about what Draco had said. And he thought about how good it had felt to kiss someone who wasn’t Ginny.

They had married too young. He hadn’t been ready for it. He had wanted it, but he hadn’t been ready for it. He had thought it was romantic, marrying his first real girlfriend, just like his Dad had. And he had loved her, very much. And he wanted children. He wanted it all right away. And it wasn’t as if it were unusual in the wizarding world to marry and have children young, in fact it was incredibly common.

But his life hadn’t been usual. He had missed out on his childhood living at the Dursleys. And missed out on his teenage years thanks to Voldemort. He had spent most of his late teenage years grieving or fighting or both at the same time. Even his first few months with Ginny when he was 16 had been marred by preparing for war and… well, Draco ironically. When the war was over he had tried to recreate what his mother and father had, to somehow make up for them never getting to live it out. To give James what he had never had, and spoiling him rotten as a result, to have the brothers and sisters his parents had never got the chance to give him through Albus and Lily, and never really knowing how to see them for who they really were.

He didn’t regret his life. And he loved his children so much that he would do it all exactly the same if he had to do it over, so that they would still be there just as they were. But he had never actually given himself the time to find out what he really wanted, who he really was.

But was he running away with himself as Draco had suggested? It was all a bit mid-life crisis. And there was no doubt that his long suppressed desire for Draco was causing a certain lack of sensible thought.

Draco had very swiftly taken Ron’s place as his best friend, the person he turned to when he needed to talk, the person he was honest with about his problems. But then Ron hadn’t really been that in a long time, thanks to Harry being married to his sister and employed by his wife. It made it difficult to be entirely honest, too many conflicts of interest. And he certainly couldn’t discuss his sex life with him! In all honesty he hadn’t confided in anyone the way he did with Draco in a very long time.

Harry sighed and decided to take things one at a time. He hadn’t been kidding last night when he had told Draco he was quitting his job. That he was certain of. And there would be enough fall out from that to deal with. So he took himself into the study and purloined some of Draco’s parchment, and a quill and ink and sat down to compose his letter of resignation.

Hermione was going to murder him.

–

Draco still hadn’t returned when Harry decided it was time to get home. He’d taken a broom out anyway. Draco had a large garden, although not his own Quidditch pitch as he’d had at Malfoy Mansion, and Harry had flown laps and chased down a snitch a few times, getting the wind in his hair. He was sorry they hadn’t had a chance to fly together after all… but he didn’t regret what had happened.

He floo’d back home at midday, his resignation letter in his pocket waiting to be sealed and sent.

Ginny was eating lunch when he arrived, dressed to go out. “Hello, love, good flying?” she asked.

“Um, yeah,” said Harry, feeling suddenly panicked and unsure what to do with his hands. He stuffed them in his pockets. “Yeah, great.”

Ginny gave him one of those looks she had. “I’m off to the match in half an hour,” she said. “Did you eat lunch already? There’s more in the pan if you didn’t.”

“Um...” Harry looked at the pan. He looked back. He shifted on his feet. “I need to tell you something before you go,” he blurted.

Ginny put her fork down. “You’re being odd,” she said. “You didn’t get in a fight with Draco did you? You two have been doing so well.”

“Um...” said Harry, and felt himself blush.

“Oh hell,” said Ginny. “You did, didn’t you.”

“No!” said Harry. “No it’s not that, it’s something else. Just… give me a minute.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him.

Harry sat down opposite her at the table and took a deep breath. “I’m resigning from my job,” he told her and he took the letter out of his pocket and placed it in front of him on the table. “I needed to tell you now because I’m sending the letter today.” He waited for her to respond.

Ginny looked at the folded letter under his hand, then looked back at him. “Just like that?”

“I’ve wanted to do it for ages, I just… didn’t. But now I am.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, does it matter? You know we don’t need the money, not really.”

Ginny pursed her lips. “Have you spoken to Hermione about this?”

“That’s what this is for,” said Harry tapping the letter.

“Oh, Harry,” said Ginny, shaking her head. “Hermione is one of our best friends, you are not just sending her an owl with your resignation. She will murder you, and I will let her.”

“Ginny...”

“You take this to her in person if you’re so determined to do it. But I hope you’re sure, because you will be letting a lot of people down.”

Harry’s blood suddenly began to boil. He stood up sharply and said “Fine!” in a voice that surprised Ginny with its edge of anger.

“Where are you going?” she said as he turned about and headed for the door.

“To see Hermione,” he growled and shut the door rather louder than necessary behind him, knowing he was being unreasonable but somehow unable to help himself. If he stayed he would shout at her and he didn’t want to.

He took a breath on the doorstep and fixed his mind before apparating away to Ron and Hermione’s front garden. He took another couple of steadying breaths before he knocked on the door.

There was no answer. Ron often worked on the weekend, given that Saturday was one of the busiest days on the shop floor of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. Ron had quit the Aurors when Hermione got pregnant, so that he could look after the kids and Hermione could keep working. She was the career oriented one after all. And as Minister for Magic, Hermione often worked irregular hours as well. He should have known better than to assume anyone would be home.

He sighed and sat down on the doorstep, leaning back against the door. The letter in his hand was a little crumpled from his overly tight grip as he had stormed out of his kitchen. He straightened it out. The day was definitely not going as well as it had started out. He smiled to himself and spent a pleasant ten minutes contemplating this morning in detail, which did a great deal to settle his mood.

He wondered where Draco had gone to, they never spoke much of any other friends Draco might have. Harry had kind of assumed he didn’t have any, but he supposed he must really.

Eventually the stone step had made his arse too cold to keep sitting there. He could have cast a warming or cushioning charm, but he couldn’t spend the afternoon sitting on Hermione’s front doorstep. She would be at the Ministry most likely, but he didn’t want to do this there. He transfigured a twig into a quill and some dew into ink and scribbled on the back of the folded letter.

‘Came by to talk in person but you were out, send me a patronus when you get this and I’ll come over. Harry’

Then he stuck the letter through the door by hand and wandered back down the path wondering what to do with himself. He supposed he could go home in a bit, Ginny would be off to the match she had to cover for the Prophet and he would have the house to himself.

He took his time walking through Ottery St Catchpole, Ron and Hermione had decided to live close to Molly and Arthur so the kids could spend time at the Burrow whenever they wanted and Ron could lean on Molly for child rearing tips.

Harry and Ginny lived in a greatly remodelled Grimmauld Place. Harry had thought about selling it or giving it away at first, but in the end he had inherited it from Sirius and it had served them well in the last year as a base of operations, and for all it’s bad memories it had good ones too. And it was a tie to the past, to all the people he had lost, and Harry was sentimental that way. In the end he just wasn’t comfortable with anyone else having it. So in the run up to the wedding they had gutted the place and redone it from the ground up so they could move in together.

Harry had never had a place that was just his own. He had lived at the Burrow after the war, which had made it even easier to get back together with Ginny, seeing her all the time, remembering what they had had. And then she had moved out when she started flying for the Harpies and lived with some of her teammates right up until they had married. So Harry had stayed on with Molly and Arthur, so they wouldn’t be alone with all their children moved out, and because he didn’t want to be alone either.

When he reached the edge of Ottery St Catchpole he apparated back home and went out to the back garden.

It was big for a London garden, expanded by the Black’s with permanent charmwork that only needed a little shoring up every couple of years. He had never even realised there was a garden when the Order had been using it. It had been a riot of magical and muggle weeds when they had started work on the house, a jungle that reached up to the second floor windows in places.

It had taken Harry two years just to tame it enough to actually properly call it a garden. But it turned out that Harry quite enjoyed gardening, as long as it wasn’t anything like the Dursleys neatly constructed suburban plot. With a bit of advice from Neville and Luna, Harry had created a rambling semi-natural garden with not a single straight line or garden centre standard to be seen. The new pond was the final thing he had wanted to add in, there was already a marsh area down the back, but he wanted a properly big pond with native water lilies and frogs and a small magically pumped stream running down into it to keep it well aerated. He had done much of the digging last weekend and now he got out the lining and started to prepare it to be laid.

It was the perfect weather for the work, just cool and breezy enough not to be uncomfortable doing manual labour.

–

He was still in the garden, filling up the pond to see if it would hold the water, when the door bell went off. His heart bumped inside his chest. It was most likely Hermione.

He wiped himself off a bit on the way through the kitchen and took deep breaths to try and steady his nerves. I told her I didn’t want the job, he said to himself. I told her when she demanded I take it. I told her, I told her.

He opened the door.

It was Teddy. He had completely forgotten that he was coming over for dinner this evening. He had even told him to show up a bit early so they could have some time to chat just the two of them before Ginny came home from work. He could hear Draco’s voice in his head, ‘Can’t even keep track of your own plans, never mind anyone else’s.’ It made him smile.

“Teddy, I was just working on the garden. Come on in.”

This was going to be awkward, when Hermione did finally get his note he wouldn’t be able to go and see her after all. That was not going to make things easier.

Hermione’s patronus didn’t arrive until they were half way through dinner. Having Teddy there had made Harry less nervous around Ginny, but things were still a little less relaxed than usual and he could see that Teddy had picked up on something being off.

Hermione’s otter dived through a window and her voice shrieked, “Harry James Potter, you get your backside over here right this instant!” before it dived away again, leaving them all sitting in awkward silence.

“So,” said Ginny. “You sent the letter after all.”

“I went to their house to talk to her, but she was at work,” Harry defended himself. “I told her to let me know when she was home so I could come and talk in person. I swear. Except I completely forgot Teddy was coming by tonight.” Harry gave a look of guilty apology to Teddy.

Teddy shrugged. “If you’ve pissed off Aunt Hermione that much you better go talk to her before she comes here and we all get caught in the crossfire. What did you do anyway?”

“It’s just work stuff,” said Harry. “Nothing to worry about.”

Ginny’s face was a storm cloud. “If you said you’d go, then you better go.”

Teddy grinned at him, “Go on, I can’t stay late tonight anyway, I’ve a pick up quidditch game tomorrow morning with folks from work.”

Harry sighed and put his fork down. Time to face the music.

–

And he did indeed spend the major part of Saturday night and most of Sunday being either earnestly talked at as if he were a child or yelled at loudly, by a variety of people for a variety of reasons.

In the end it was agreed that he would go on a leave of absence for ‘personal reasons’ that would turn into an official resignation, if he was still determined to see it through, once Hermione felt she had things prepared for it to not cause too much upset. His deputy would fill in for him until then and only a handful of people would know he most likely wasn’t coming back. The most likely was Hermione’s addition, Harry knew he wasn’t going back the same way he knew the sun would rise tomorrow.

An interview was set up with the Daily Prophet for Monday, to discuss how he hadn’t taken a proper break in several years and, after the stress of last year’s events, he and his wife could do with some personal time. Hermione had heavily prepped him to make it sound as much like an elongated vacation as possible, and to make a point of saying how things were very quiet at the moment anyway and so his deputy would easily be able to cope without him, and that of course if something serious were to come up he was only a floo call away. Harry did as he was told, as usual.

And then, because it amused him, he went to Quality Quidditch Supplies on Tuesday morning and brought a brand new racing broom.

Ginny was furious. Apparently he didn’t understand just how tight finances might be without his wage. Apparently they had to consider not just the Hogwarts tuition fees, but also putting aside money to help the children after they left school. And what if they ran out of their savings one day, wizards lived a long time after all.

Harry felt bad for how annoying he was finding Ginny, and how much they were arguing. He suspected it had a lot more to do with him wanting out so he could sleep with Draco than it did with anything she did or said. She had always been headstrong, she had always had a temper, and he had always let her boss him around. It was how their relationship worked. Except all of a sudden it just really didn’t work for him any more. A part of him had already left, and still actually being here made him chafe at every wrong word and every way in which she was nothing like Draco. And he felt like a liar, for not having told her what had happened, which made him irritable and moody.

He needed someone to confide in, but everyone he knew well enough was related to Ginny or best friends with Ginny or was Draco. And Draco had said they shouldn’t see each other for a bit, and Harry suspected he was right.

In the end he owled Oliver Wood, whom he hadn’t spoken to in years, and asked him if he wanted to meet up for a drink.

When he walked into the Three Broomsticks his face gave away his surprise.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” said Oliver comfortably patting his belly. “Not exactly what you were expecting right?”

“Well, you know,” stumbled Harry. “We’re none of us getting any younger.”

“You don’t have to feel bad, it’s a personal choice. I’ve spent my whole life in sports, driving myself like an ox. A few years back I just decided I’d had enough. I wanted to know what it was like not to get up at 6am and run five miles before breakfast. And I bloody love it. I love being out of shape, it’s brilliant. So relaxing.”

“Okay,” said Harry, a little bemused. “I suppose I can understand that, I’ve been feeling the urge to make some life changes myself. That’s kind of why I asked you to meet up, I’m afraid. Wanted someone to talk to.”

“I saw the interview in the paper, taking personal time. I did wonder what all that was about. Personal time always means something else.”

“Yeah,” Harry waved to Trixie Rosmerta, who had taken over from Madame Rosmerta when she had retired, and gestured for whisky. “I can trust you right, not to gossip?”

“Lips sealed, Harry. I’d never betray the confidence of a team mate.”

Trixie put down two glasses and a bottle on their table and they waited for her to move away before they continued.

“I hope you mean that, Oliver, I really do. Cause I’ve got something I need to talk about that I don’t want anyone else to know. I wouldn’t talk about it at all, but it’s driving me crazy and I need to tell someone.”

Oliver looked a bit worried. “You can trust me, Harry. But… I mean why me? It’s not like we’ve done the best job of keeping in touch, and I don’t mean that badly. It takes two people, and I’m awful at letting things slip. If it wasn’t for the wife I wouldn’t even send Christmas cards.”

“I think you’ll understand once I tell you what it is.” Harry took a fortifying swallow of whisky. “I… um… Merlin, I feel like a shit even saying it… I cheated on Ginny.”

Oliver had clearly not been expecting that. His mouth moved, trying to figure out what to say, but it took him a while and some of his own drink before he came out with, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Does she know? Is that why you’re taking time off?”

“No. No-one knows… well obviously except the… other person. I’m taking time off because I’m quitting my job and Hermione won’t let me just leave.”

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. “Shit, Harry. And I thought we were just going to have a reminisce about old matches”

“Sorry, I know I’m kind of dumping this on you out of nowhere.” Harry downed the rest of his whisky and poured another.

“Are you… I mean is it… are you still seeing the… the other person?”

“I dunno. It was just once and it only just happened, that’s kind of why I wanted to talk to someone. My head’s a bit of a mess and I’m finding it hard to figure out what the right thing is to do. I’ve not seen them since… um… it happened.”

“Do you want to see them again?”

“God, yeah,” Harry’s reply came out a little more fervently than he had intended. He’d been trying not to think about seeing Draco again too much. “That is, they suggested we should have some space till I sorted myself out.”

“They sound pretty sensible. Anyone I know?”

Harry flushed, “I think I better not say.”

“Fair enough.”

But Harry could see the temptation to start internally guessing was getting the better of Oliver. Not that it mattered, he’d never guess on Draco Malfoy, not in a million years.

“You know I always thought you were gay, right up until I heard you were dating Ginny Weasley,” Oliver mused.

Harry nearly breathed in his whisky, he coughed. “You did? Why?”

“Dunno, just a feeling. I suppose you were a bit young to be chasing after girls yet, but I used to catch you looking at me in the changing rooms after matches sometimes.”

Harry blushed very red. “Um… yeah, maybe a bit. Sorry about that.”

“No bother,” said Oliver easily. “I had a damn good body back then, even if I do say so myself.”

He laughed and Harry relaxed a bit and laughed with him.

“I never cheated on Arabella,” Oliver said. “No offence. I just mean, I don’t know quite what you’re going through. But there were times when I was tempted, I think everyone is now and then. When I was still playing pro Quidditch there were a lot of girls who made it clear they were available. But it feels like maybe this is a bit more serious than that?”

“Yeah, I think so,” said Harry thoughtfully. “I’ve had people try it on with me before, and I never once considered actually taking any of them up on it. But this wasn’t like that, it wasn’t someone trying to pick me up, it was… me falling for someone.”

“That serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Then surely it’s pretty clear what you have to do?”

“That’s what I thought at first, I mean my first instinct was just to tell Ginny right away and end things. But the more we talked about it, and the more I thought about it, the more complicated it seemed to get. I mean what if I’m just being self indulgent, or what if I’m wrong? That’s more than twenty years I’ll be throwing away.”

“You wouldn’t be throwing them away, you’d still have them.”

“That was… fairly profound.”

Oliver shrugged. “I’m a wise old man now, I even read books, for fun.”

“Well I’m not wise,” said Harry. “And I’m not sure I ever really grew up, I just got older and more boring.”

“Boring is not how I would describe this conversation,” Oliver pointed out.

“But that’s what I mean, what if I’m just bored with my life? What kind of excuse is that for messing up Ginny and the children’s lives? Everyone’s already mad at me over the job.”

“You said you fell for someone, doesn’t sound like boredom to me. Do you think you could just forget about it and stick it out with Ginny?”

Harry sighed, “Maybe... the thing is... I don’t want to. I don’t want to stick it out cause I should, I’m sick of doing what I think I have to do. It’s why I quit the stupid job. And I think it’s why I… did what I did. I already wanted to do it and I just … I’d had enough of doing the right thing all the time. And I wanted him. And that is selfish, surely?” He realised his slip the moment it came out, but Oliver didn’t comment on it.

“I don’t think it’s selfish to try and live the life you want to live,” Oliver said. “I did what I wanted to do with my life and I’m a happy fat bastard for having done it. Maybe I could have been more self sacrificing, but I did my share of that during the war as did we all, and you more than anyone. So why shouldn’t we have the things we want, the way we want them. There’s no shame in that, Harry. You deserve it, if it’s what you want. And if you’ve fallen for someone else, well I don’t think Ginny would thank you for pretending otherwise.”

Harry didn’t say anything. He was deeply touched by what Oliver had said, and it had the ring of truth to it. He had found it hard after the war, to say no to people. He had got used to the idea that it was his role in life to take on burdens for the sake of other people. To do what needed to be done.

Ironically Ginny had helped him to say no to some of the demands made of him, the day to day pestering, it had been part of why he’d married her. She did take some of the weight off. It had been his choice to keep doing it, often against her advice. She hadn’t wanted him to take the promotion to Head of Law Enforcement, but he had let Hermione persuade him that it had to be him, that the Ministry needed him, that Hermione needed him, that the whole damned wizarding world needed him. And he didn’t blame her either, she had always been like that, she couldn’t help herself. She lived to organise the world into a better place, whether it wanted it or not. He had needed to learn to say no. And for some reason it had taken Draco Malfoy to make him sit up and realise that. Maybe because Malfoy was the last person who would let someone pressure him into doing or saying something he didn’t want to, after all he’d learned that lesson the hard way a very long time ago.

“Knut for your thoughts,” said Oliver after the silence had gone on for far too long.

Harry gestured, “Just a whole bunch of stuff. But yeah, what you said. Thanks, you’ve helped a lot.”

“Glad to hear it. But if you do leave Ginny don’t you dare tell her I knew anything about it. Woman’s a hellcat when she’s angry.”

“Oh don’t worry, she’ll be too busy making mincemeat of me,” Harry sighed. “I promise to keep you out of it. Talk to me about Quidditch, Ollie. Take my mind of it for a bit.”

And they spent a couple of hours having the conversation Oliver had expected and letting the serious atmosphere dissipate.

 


	3. Chapter 3

It was late on Thursday night when Harry got home from Hogsmeade. Tomorrow would be his last hand over day in the office. And tomorrow night would have been his usual drinks with Draco. Instead he was taking some of his immediate staff out for drinks in Diagon Alley.

Before he went to bed he sat down and wrote a letter to Draco.

‘Draco,   
I know the papers say I’m just taking a break, I’m not. I did what I said I would and quit, the story is just Hermione handling things. I’ve been thinking a lot about what we talked about, and I haven’t told Ginny what happened. I’ll miss not seeing you for our usual drinks, but you said we should take some space. I think I’ve decided what I’m going to do. But I haven’t done it yet. Don’t worry about getting the blame for any of it, I’d never let that happen.   
Yours, Harry.’

He gave the letter to their owl, Gammon, to deliver, and went to bed.

He got a reply from Draco on Saturday morning.

‘Potter,   
If you’re going to do it, think it through. It’s Christmas in a couple of months and the children will be home, make damn sure you talk to them before they hear about it in the Prophet. Merlin knows everything you do ends up in there eventually.   
Draco Malfoy.’

Harry smiled at the blunt note and tucked it into his pocket. He knew Draco too well to expect any sentimentality in his tone. And as ever, he had a good point. There was a passable chance that when he told Ginny he wanted to end things, her temper might cause things to become public sooner rather than later. And he didn’t want the children to find out that way. Memories of so many awful breakfasts at Hogwarts as the entire school read lies and half truths about his personal life in the Daily Prophet. But he equally couldn’t speak to the kids before he spoke to Ginny. So he did have to plan this out carefully.

Fortunately it was a Hogsmeade weekend just a week from today. He could arrange for them to meet up with the children as a Halloween treat, they could book a private room at the Three Broomsticks. Then Harry could tell Ginny that morning, and even if she did blow her top he’d have time to talk to the children before any gossip reached the papers.

And all he had to do was survive one more awkward week, feeling like he was sitting on a stash of slightly out of date Weasley’s Wildfire Whizz-bangs.

As the week wore on he gradually realised he was more worried about telling the children than he was about telling Ginny. Ginny had a temper, but she was an adult, she would understand, and she would cope. He really did think that it wouldn’t be so much of a surprise to her once she thought about it, that she might even be glad that he’d done it, eventually.

But Lily was only 14. And Albus and he had only just started getting on again for the first time in years. He supposed James would probably be alright, he was in his last year at Hogwarts now, practically an adult. But then most likely that just meant he’d act as if he was all right even if he wasn’t. And it was Christmas soon, what if Ginny didn’t want to see him and they had to decide who got the kids for Christmas day? Where would they even be living then? They couldn’t both stay on at Grimmauld Place. The house belonged to Harry, but he wouldn’t turf Ginny out of her home, assuming she wanted to stay.

For a moment he thought about moving in with Draco. A pipe dream, he doubted Draco would be enamoured of the idea. If they had really just been friends then it would have been ideal, at least temporarily. But with things as they were… not really an option. He supposed he’d have to rent a room somewhere, more money for Ginny to be annoyed at him wasting now that he didn’t have an income.

He really was going to have to earn some money after all, wasn’t he. He thought about the offers he still got from time to time, though more rarely as he never took anyone up on any of them. Endorsement deals, interview requests…

He got up and went to fish around in his files for the stack of letters that were tucked away somewhere. When he’d been younger he’d often burned them, but he was moderately more grown up now, and when adults didn’t want to deal with things they filed them.

He sat in the living room with a coffee and sorted the stack into three piles; definitely not, maybe and quite possibly. He hovered over one for long minutes, strangely tempted. It was a lot of money, more than a year’s wages at his Ministry salary. He placed it on top of the maybe pile, not quite able to add it to the small quite possibly pile just yet. But it added up to more than that entire pile offered.

He put the organised piles away again and decided to let things percolate for a bit before he made any decisions. He supposed he also had to consider how to handle it when things did become public. He didn’t want gossip to hurt Ginny and the kids any more than necessary and for it at least to be the facts – well the facts minus one very specific event. He was definitely sold now on that never becoming public knowledge.

By the next day he had drafted a letter in reply to the offer. Thanking them for their interest, apologising for having taken so long to reply, and wondering if they still stood by the offer.

He received a response the next morning, a very positive one.

He looked himself over in the mirror, wondering if he could really do this. He sat down and did a set of sit ups and then another of press-ups and then looked again to see if he felt more convinced.

He supposed he had nothing to be ashamed of, for a man of his age. And it was a lot of money.

Ginny was right, he’d been a rich man at 17, but between school fees and remodelling the house and all the money he’d given to charities in the immediate aftermath of the war, he was only passably comfortable these days. He’d sold his share of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to Ron at a very cut price as a Christening gift when Rose was born. And there was the children’s inheritance to think about.

He wrote back and agreed to the terms, asking only that the article not go out sooner than mid November. He figured a couple of weeks grace to let people cool off was best before he stirred the pot again. And he knew there was a part of him that was stirring, that was agreeing to this because it was the last thing he would ever have agreed to normally. He never did interviews unless he had to, and he hated having his photo taken.

Oh well, he had said yes now.

–

He found himself desperately wanting to talk to Draco by Friday morning. Everything was happening tomorrow and he didn’t feel ready at all. He was going to screw it up, he knew he was. He was going to explain everything wrong.

Eventually, he sent a message.

‘Draco,  
Please say we can meet today, I swear I’ll behave and I won’t get drunk. Really need to talk.  
Harry’

He got a response just before dinner time.

‘Fine, if you must. D’

“Thank, Christ,” he swore, the Muggle expressions of his childhood were a sign of how on edge he was. He left a note on the kitchen table, saying he wouldn’t be back too late, and paused only to change his clothes into something less ratty before he floo’d over.

Draco was there in the drawing room when he arrived. Harry paused just out of the floo, brushing at his trousers and suddenly very aware that this was the first time Draco and he had been near each other since that morning. The memory of which was suddenly arousingly vivid.

Draco flicked his wand and cleaned the remaining soot off Harry’s clothes. “Don’t gawp at me like that, it’s unsavoury,” he said and stalked into the dining room with Harry trailing after him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” Harry said when he found his voice. “It’s just… a bit weirder than I was expecting.”

Draco sat down and looked him over. “I know what you mean,” he admitted.

Harry occupied himself fiddling with his napkin and pouring some juice. He noted there was no wine at the table, Draco wasn’t taking any chances.

“So,” said Draco. “Have you told her then?”

“No, I’m telling her tomorrow, and then the kids straight after. It’s a Hogsmeade Saturday so we’re meeting them for lunch.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and eventually said, “And so you’re bricking it.”

“Yup,” said Harry wryly. “That’s about the short of it.”

“Do you know what you’re going to say?”

“That’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you,” before Draco could protest Harry continued. “I know it’s not up to you to tell me what to say, I could just do with another ear to stop me fucking it all up. Of all people, you know how terrible I am at this.”

“Polite human conversation? Yes, I’m well aware.”

Harry grinned and Draco allowed a small smile to hover for a moment.

“It’s not Ginny so much, it’s what to say later to the children.”

“And is the problem what to say so they won’t be hurt or what to say so they won’t blame you?”

Harry looked guilty. “The first, obviously. I mean it would be nice if they didn’t hate me, but they’d have the right. I am the one leaving. But I’m leaving Ginny, not them. And I want to make sure they understand the difference.”

Draco relented and thought seriously about the matter. “When things were… difficult… what I wanted most was for my parents to be honest with me. In the end I was angry that they’d hidden things, the hard things, the nasty side of it all, and that meant I couldn’t make a real choice because I didn’t know what was really happening.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to tell the truth?”

“I didn’t want you to tell people unnecessary details, it’s not the same thing. You should tell the truth about how you feel, about what you want. It’s possible to be honest and still be… circumspect.”

“I’m not sure I have the level of subtlety required.”

Draco huffed a laugh, “No, almost certainly not.” He reached over the small distance and let his fingers brush against Harry’s. “But I suppose I can help with that.”

Harry looked at their hands, letting his fingers touch back just lightly. “Should I tell them that I’ve fallen for someone else then?” he asked softly.

Draco’s fingers stopped moving, but he didn’t draw his hand away. “Is that what you’ve done?”

Harry looked up to find Draco’s eyes already on his. “I… think so.”

Draco looked hopeful and troubled all at the same time. “I think that might be one of the details that’s unnecessary at this stage. Perhaps it might be better phrased that you’ve realised you want other things, that you need space to explore.”

“And will I be able to explore those things?” Harry asked, his breath tight in his chest.

“You’re Harry Potter, when are you going to realise that you can do whatever you want?”

“I want to kiss you,” Harry responded.

Then Draco did draw his hand away. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” he said, dropping his gaze back to his plate.

“You don’t want me to?”

“I didn’t say that. I seem to recall you promising to behave.” He willfully ignored the fact that he’d been the one to touch Harry first. “If you kiss me... I’m not sure I can.” He met Harry’s gaze again, but firmly, pushing desire back down.

“Right,” said Harry, his mouth dry. I gulped at his juice. “Right. Sorry.”

They ate quietly for a bit.

Then Harry spoke up. “I’m worried that she’s going to ask me if there’s someone else. I mean it’s what people do isn’t it, in these situations. I’m not sure I can lie if she asks me directly.”

Draco sighed. “Then head off the question, get there before her. Tell her you’ve started being attracted to other people, tell her it made you realise the two of you don’t have what you used to have. Tell her you’re sorry, that you feel bad about it.”

“That’s… really slick. Bit underhand, but clever. Very Slytherin.”

Draco shrugged, “It’s what we do. We manage people.”

In the end Harry had a working outline of what he was going to say, and a raging hard on that he took care of in Draco’s bathroom before he floo’d home. They had parted cautiously, with only a handshake and an unexpected kiss to the cheek that had felt a little like a promise of more.

It was only ten when Harry arrived back home and Ginny was up reading still in the living room.

“Did you and Draco make up then?”

“What?”

“I know you said you hadn’t argued with him, but I figured since you didn’t meet up last week...”

“Right. No, we just took a week off so I could sort out all this work stuff. We really didn’t fight.”

“You’re home awful early tonight though.”

“Yeah, I … I wanted to talk to you. Before we meet the kids tomorrow.” Harry suddenly realised he wasn’t going to wait till the morning, he was going to do it right now. Maybe better anyway, give Ginny the chance to cool off before they met the children.

“You have that look again, the one you had before you told me you were quitting.” Ginny put her book down. “I’m suddenly quite glad I’ve already had half a bottle of wine. Is it Draco that’s putting you up to all this? What’ve you decided to do now?”

“No, it’s not Draco,” Harry stammered. “It’s me. It’s stuff I want to do, I mean I’ve been talking to him about it, but if anything all he’s done is make sure I really mean it before I do it. Really.”

“Oh, and what is it you want to do this time?”

“I… um…” Harry felt urgently for the words, his palms clammy. He sat down opposite her. “I want to talk about … I mean I want… I mean… “

“Harry,” Ginny said, exasperated. “Will you spit it out.”

“I want a divorce,” he said. Then looked startled at himself for getting it out.

Ginny stared at him. “You want a divorce,” she repeated, her tone dangerous.

“I’ve… I’ve realised things aren’t working for me anymore. I’ve… been finding other people attractive. I don’t want to pretend that I’m … that things are like they used to be,” Harry babbled.

“What other people!”

Harry stared at her in alarm. That wasn’t the direction this was supposed to go in.

“Just people… that’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point,” Ginny stood up. “Just exactly what is your damn point, Harry!”

“That I don’t… that I’m not… I’m not in love with you anymore,” Harry answered desperately.

Ginny glared at him for a long moment and then picked up her book and threw it at his face. He ducked just in time. “Oh you’re not are you!” she shouted. She picked up the cushions on her chair and threw them too. “Just not in love with me! Just like that!” She picked up her glass and Harry legged it as it smashed against the wall, swiftly followed by the half full bottle of red wine. “After all I’ve done, all I gave up!” She followed him, pelting him with random ornaments and anything else that came to hand. “You selfish prick! I could have played for England! I could have… I could have...” She came to a halt in the doorway to the kitchen and stared at him, red faced and panting. Then she burst into tears.

Harry paused, breathless himself. She started to slide down the doorframe and he came cautiously to her side. “Ginn?”

She gulped, slapped him and then buried her face in his shoulder and cried some more.

When she had calmed down a bit, he made her a cup of tea.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not sorry about our life, I loved our life. But I’m sorry you had to give things up so we could have it. It shouldn’t have been that way.”

Ginny rubbed her face and sighed. “I could have said no,” she admitted. “I wanted to give you what you wanted. Or… I thought it was what you wanted.”

“Don’t let's second guess that stuff, please. It’ll only spoil what we had.” Harry sat down at the kitchen table with her.

“But would you do it again, if you could go back? Would you… marry me?” she asked uncertainly.

Harry took her hand. “Yes, absolutely.” And it was the truth.

“But not anymore?”

Harry looked down. “No. I’m sorry. But wouldn’t you rather I was honest than I stayed and didn’t really mean it.”

Ginny took her hand back and sipped at her tea. “I suppose. I know it’s not been… I’ve felt like ever since the boys started at Hogwarts something’s been off between us.”

“I think,” said Harry thoughtfully. “That when James went to school a large part of me wanted to go with him. And I really started thinking about all the stuff I never got to do, as a child. I think maybe that’s part of what made things so difficult with Albus. I was already angry… not at him… but at everything, for how my childhood was. For not getting to just enjoy life. He was always so difficult, and I felt like he was throwing his chance to be happy away, when he had every opportunity to have what I never did. And then when Lily was gone too… it was just us. And I started to resent you, and I hated that I did, and I didn’t even know why I did. You never did anything wrong.”

“I resented you too,” Ginny admitted.

“Really?”

“Ever since I got pregnant with Lily. I realised that was it, I was never going back to the Harpies. And I was so angry at you because I let your dreams come first and now my dreams were over. Then Lily was born and I forgave you mostly, she was so wonderful, and so were the boys, but it was always there in the back of my head. The life I’d planned to live. And the thing about a dream that you never fulfil is it never gets grounded in reality. For all I know I’d have burned out in a year or two, or got injured and had to stop anyway, or hit a ceiling I wasn’t good enough to get past, but because I never tried there’s part of me that imagines winning the Quidditch world cup and traveling the world going to wild parties. When that probably wouldn’t have really happened either way.”

“I’m sorry, I really am sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m not angry at you any more about it. It was my choice too.”

“I don’t… maybe this sounds selfish, and I don’t mean it to be… but I don’t want everyone to fall out over this. Your family… they’re the only real family I’ve had. And there’s the kids to think of. I know I’m the one asking to go, and I don’t mind if you’re upset with me, but I’d like to try and work this out together so that the kids don’t end up in the middle.”

“This is why you wanted to have lunch with the kids tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d better tell them sooner rather than later, in case somehow it got out.”

“That’s… very forward thinking of you,” said Ginny suspiciously. “Whose idea was it actually? Does Hermione know about this?”

“No, nobody knows… except… except Draco. It was his idea to make sure I told the kids.” He hoped that was honest enough to pass muster without throwing any suspicion on Draco.

Ginny frowned. “I suppose I shouldn’t be that surprised you’ve talked to him about it, you two have been thick as thieves since you stopped hating each other.”

Harry shrugged nervously. “He’s a good listener.”

Ginny nailed him with a gaze that could strip paint, but in the end she just shook her head and went back to her tea.

After a while Harry said nervously, “Do you want me to move out? I already had a look around at rooms in case...”

“Merlin, Harry,” Ginny put her head in her hands and puffed out a breath. “I don’t know.”

They sat in silence again as the clock ticked in the hallway. Ginny drained the last of her tea.

“Are you sleeping with him?” she asked quietly.

Harry’s blood froze. “What?”

“Draco,” she said. “I just want to know if you’re already sleeping with him.”

“I…” Harry’s vocal chords had frozen up. “N… no, not… not exactly...”

“Not exactly,” she repeated.

“This isn’t his fault.”

“I never said it was. I just want to know the truth.”

“I didn’t… we haven’t…” he was making this worse. “It was just...”

“Oh shut up, Harry,” Ginny said, she sounded tired. “I think I’m going to go stay at Mum’s for a bit.” She stood up.

“Are… are you still coming tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I can play happy families just yet,” and now she did sound bitter.

“Please…” Harry swallowed. “Please don’t tell anyone about Draco. It’s not his fault, he shouldn’t get the blame for this.”

He saw the moment she started to get angry again. “I’ll play nice for the sake of our children, Harry. But if you think I’m going to play nice for the sake of Draco fucking Malfoy then you’re delusional. But since I don’t want our kids finding out that their Dad is fucking someone else...”

“We didn’t...”

“Shut up!”

Harry shut up.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do. You’re leaving me for him, so it’s the same damn thing no matter what the bloody details are. I’m going to the Burrow and I don’t want to hear a damned word from you until I tell you otherwise. Understand?”

Harry nodded.

“Tell the kids whatever you want, but you had better make it good, because if you upset them any more than absolutely necessary I will castrate you.”

She pushed past him and into the living room and Harry heard her floo to the Burrow. He sat back down at the kitchen table. That had… not gone well.


	4. Chapter 4

He’d gone to bed not long after Ginny left, the argument had left him feeling worn out. And if he’d cried over it, well that was between him and his pillow and nobody else’s business.

In the morning he owled Draco.

‘Draco,  
I told her. I’m sorry, but she saw right through me, so she knows something happened between us. I’d tell you not to worry, but she was pretty angry once she figured it out so I can’t be sure what she’ll do. I have to go and see the kids still, but I’d like to see you this evening, if you want to.  
Sorry, Harry.’

Once the owl was sent he wondered if he should have just floo called him. Draco’s house was out in Cornwall and it took an owl a while to get there and back. But he hadn’t felt quite ready to speak to him in person just yet. Well, he could always floo call once he was back from Hogsmeade if there wasn’t an owl when he got home.

He floo’d straight to the Three Broomsticks a half hour before he had arranged to meet the kids and sat up in the private room he had booked, sipping a butterbeer and wondering if Ginny might show up after all.

There hadn’t been any Howler this morning, so he could only presume that Ginny hadn’t told Molly the whole story when she had shown up.

But the time came and she still hadn’t arrived when Lily and Albus poked their heads around the door then came tumbling in.

Dad!” shouted Lily and hurled herself at him for a hug.

Albus hung back, but accepted an awkward one armed hug afterwards. “Where’s Mum?” he asked.

“Oh… she couldn’t make it after all,” Harry said. “Where’s James?”

“He’s coming,” said Lily. “I bet he’s late cause he’s snogging his girlfriend.”

“James has a girlfriend?”

“James always has a girlfriend,” said Albus making a face. “Apparently girls like egotistical knobheads.”

“Don’t be mean,” said Lily. “I think he really likes this one, they’ve been together almost since term started.”

“The only person he really likes is himself,” returned Albus.

“Come on now,” said Harry. “If you’re going to insult your brother wait until he’s here and do it to his face. It’s only fair.”

Albus rolled his eyes.

Sure enough, James sidled in ten minutes later, with his shirt untucked and his lips a little redder than usual. “Wotcher, Dad,” he said, giving him a salute. “Where’s Mum?”

Harry sighed inwardly. “How about we all sit down.”

James gave him a look that he had clearly picked up from his mother. “Is something up?” They all sat down. “I thought it was a bit odd, wanting us all to have lunch. Is this about what was in the paper, about you taking time off?”

Albus started to look worried.

“Um, no, not really,” said Harry. “Your mother was going to come, but then she thought that maybe I should just talk to you all myself.”

“About what?” James asked.

“Can I have a butterbeer?” asked Lily, whose attention span had never been her strongest suit.

“Um, yes. Maybe we should all order first.”

“No,” said James firmly. “I think you should tell us what’s going on.”

“Right,” said Harry, meeting his direct gaze. “Yes, alright.” He looked at Lily and Albus in turn. “Your mother and I are getting a divorce.”

There was a moment of deadly silence across the table. Then Lily stood up and ran out of the room without a word.

Harry stood up and called after her, “Lily! Come back.”

He started to follow her, but Albus grabbed him by the elbow. His face was very white. “Don’t,” he said. “I’ll go after her.” And he left the room.

Harry looked after him feeling helpless. He looked at James who was very quiet and still sitting down. “James?”

“When did you decide?” he asked.

“Yesterday,” Harry answered. “I wanted to tell you straight away, it seemed only fair for you to know.” He paused. “I think I should...” he started to go for the door again.

“Don’t,” said James. “Albus will bring her back.”

“But...”

“How can you be sure, if you only decided this yesterday. Don’t you think you might change your minds?”

“James… if I wasn’t sure, do you think I would be here telling you? Telling Lily?”

“No,” said James. “I suppose not.”

Harry sat down again, still torn about going after Lily and Albus.

“Why isn’t Mum here?”

“She… she’s at the Burrow with Grandma.”

“Then she’s moving out.”

“I… we don’t know yet. We haven’t decided all of that yet.”

“Well I think she should be here, or is it that she wants to leave and now we’re not her responsibility anymore?” James’ calm was starting to fracture.

“No!” said Harry. “No, not at all. Please don’t think that. This isn’t her fault. She’s just a bit angry with me that’s all.”

“So this is your fault.”

“James...”

The door creaked back open at that moment and Lily ran back in, her eyes wet still with tears. Albus followed her, his own eyes a little red too. Lily threw herself into Harry’s arms and started crying again.

“Hey, Lily-bear.” Harry hugged her close, feeling his own eyes start to smart and hoping he could hold it together. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

“Will it?” asked James.

“Yes,” Harry took both the boys in over Lily’s head. “Your mother and I are still your parents and we still love you. We’ll work this out as a family.”

“Except we’re not all a family anymore,” said Albus.

“That’s not true,” said Harry vehemently. “That will never be true. Your mother and I were family long before we got married and we’ll stay family. Just like Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione are family, and Teddy and Great Aunt Andromeda are family.”

Lily had stopped crying and pulled out of Harry’s arms. “Can I get a racing broom for Christmas?” she asked.

Harry stared at her. Lily’s ability to jump moods was legendary, but this was impressive even for her. “What?”

Albus suddenly started laughing. As the children all dissolved into semi hysterical, slightly tear-streaked giggles, Harry had a feeling that maybe it was going to be alright after all.

They all sat down to lunch not long after that and talked over things more calmly. Harry promised that Grimmauld Place would still be their home and that he wouldn’t let what was going on spoil Christmas for them and that neither their Mother nor he were going to disappear on them and that he’d talk to Ginny about whether Lily could get her own broom or not.

James sloped off first, apparently he had agreed to meet “someone” at three. Lily left not long after, leaving only Albus still at the table.

“What’s really going on Dad?” he asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Just… the taking time off thing in the papers, and now this. Are you… okay?”

Harry smiled. “I’m okay, Al. Really. A lot of things are happening, but they’re good things. Even if it might not seem that way to you guys.”

Albus looked thoughtful. “I was going to ask if Scorpius could come over for Christmas, and his Dad. It’s just them on their own usually, and I thought that now everyone’s friends… but I suppose that might not be such a good idea if you and Mum are… you know.”

“Um… yeah, I think. Not this year. Sorry, Al.”

“Well, I guess if you’re okay...”

“I am.”

“And Mum’s okay?”

“I hope so, but you’d have to ask her yourself. I’m sorry she couldn’t come today. I’m sure she’ll write to you soon. Do you want me to ask her to?”

Albus thought about it. “Can you? I mean are you two… talking?”

“I can ask her,” Harry assured him, although he wouldn’t exactly say Ginny and he were talking at all.

“Alright then. I guess I’ll get on too. Thanks for lunch.”

“Of course.”

And Albus offered him a hand, which Harry shook, before leaving him alone.

–

He got home to find Gammon perched on the window ledge waiting for him, with a letter.

‘Potter,  
You are an arse. So get your arse over here and explain yourself properly.  
Draco’

Harry smiled and found some owl treats for Gammon.

He was less amused when he got inside and found that Ginny had used the time she knew he would be out to come home and pick up most of her stuff. It was a chilly reminder of how angry and upset she must be.

He had a shower and spent a half hour trying to decide what shirt to wear to Draco’s. Mostly because he was putting off being yelled at yet again, and was more than slightly worried at just how angry Draco might be at Harry’s inability to keep things on the quiet. Besides, if he looked nice maybe it would distract Draco from hexing him. He was still amazed he had escaped the conversation with Ginny without being cursed.

He floo’d through to Draco’s with his wand casually already in his hand, just in case.

Draco was waiting for him on the couch, he stood up as soon as Harry stumbled in. “How are the children?” he asked.

“All right, it was a bit dicey at first, but in the end I think they took it surprisingly well.”

“And I hope you managed not to tell them everything?”

“Ah, no. Not a word, I swear.”

“You’re such a bloody idiot,” Draco swore and in one swift move he was kissing Harry, who dropped his wand in surprise, before grabbing for him with slightly sooty hands and participating enthusiastically. “I don’t know,” said Draco in between kisses, “What I see in you.”

He spun Harry around and pushed him hard onto the sofa, where Harry landed with a slight oof. Before he could get his breath back Draco was straddling him and kissing him again, hands untucking his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Does this mean you’re not angry?” Harry asked as the shirt was thrown aside.

Draco kissed him again, savagely. “Of course I’m angry,” he growled, licking Harry’s throat. “Bloody furious. Now shut up.” Draco began to unfasten Harry’s trousers.

“Right,” said Harry, and began working on Draco’s clothes.

Draco pulled away and divested himself of his shirt, and his trousers, and his underwear, since Harry was taking too long.

Harry quickly shoved his own trousers and pants down, only getting them to his knees before Draco was on him again, pushing him back against the couch and taking hold of Harry’s rapidly hardening cock.

“Want you,” Draco panted, stroking Harry’s cock to full mast. “Want you inside me.”

Harry’s eyes widened.

Draco picked up his wand from the couch cushions and cast the lubrication charm while staring straight at Harry’s face. “I think we should, don’t you? Since your wife most likely already thinks we’ve fucked.”

Harry’s brain could barely keep up. “I’d really prefer not to think about Ginny right now,” he gasped as Draco continued to stroke his cock insistently.

“It’s been a long while,” said Draco. “Since I had a cock in my arse.”

“Merlin,” said Harry. “I’m going to come if you’re not careful.”

“Don’t you dare,” said Draco, and grabbed his cock tight around the base. Then Draco lifted himself up on his knees and began to position himself.

Harry felt like he was hyperventilating. “Are you sure… I mean I don’t want to hurt you...”

“I’m ready, I made sure I was ready before you got here,” Draco told him, pressing himself onto the head of Harry’s cock.

And Harry could feel it, Draco was tight, but already opening smoothly to take him in. Draco had been planning to do exactly this when Harry arrived, had prepared himself to do exactly this, had stretched himself open…

Harry had to take long slow deep breaths as Draco slowly sank down onto him, overwhelmed by the level of arousal, both physical and mental. Merlin, the thought of Draco working himself open ready for Harry was almost more than he could stand just on its own, never mind the slick heat surrounding his cock and the sight of Draco himself, naked and beautiful, lowering himself onto Harry with a look of pure bliss at the feeling.

And then he was all the way into Harry’s lap, arse pressed into the hollows of Harry’s hips, knees pushed into the sofa cushions under Harry’s arms, bracing himself with one arm around Harry’s shoulders and the other behind him on Harry’s leg, and his arse clenching around Harry’s cock.

“I’m not going to last long,” Harry said apologetically.

Draco looked at him with half lidded lazy eyes. “Then we’ll just have to do it all over again,” he said.

And Harry grabbed him by the hips and lifted him before pulling him back down hard.

Draco’s eyes rolled back and he began moving himself, his strong thighs snapping him up and down on Harry’s cock.

Harry steadied him with one hand and brought the other around to enclose Draco’s cock. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Fuck yourself on me.”

And Draco did, thrusting his cock up into Harry’s fist and pushing himself back down onto Harry’s cock, fast and hard, their eyes again fixed on one another as they had been the first time, only two weeks ago. Not kissing, but feeling the other’s heavy breathing on each other's faces.

This time Harry came first, no longer able to hold out against the feeling and sight of being ridden like this. He let go of Draco’s cock and grabbed his hip, squeezing hard as he came inside him. Draco himself slowed to only a slight rocking as he concentrated on the feel of Harry coming inside him and the look on Harry’s face as he did.

When Harry was done, Draco whispered, “Stay there,” and he cast the lubrication charm on his own hand and began to stroke himself, hard and fast, until he came onto Harry’s chest and high enough to spray over Harry’s mouth and neck. Stroking every last drop out onto his skin.

Harry licked the liquid off his lips, swallowing it, and then let Draco feed him the rest from his chin and chest, pushing his fingers deep into his mouth and stroking it on to his tongue. Harry suckled and swallowed until there were only smears left, and then continued to suck gently on Draco’s fingers as they watched each other.

Finally Draco pulled his fingers out of Harry’s mouth and rose up out of Harry’s lap to fall sideways onto the couch. He cast a charm Harry didn’t know and then reached out his hand to Harry, who cooperatively came to lie with him, wrapping him in his arms.

“I’m not really angry with you,” Draco said eventually. “I knew you’d screw it up. If anything I was expecting to hear she’d put you in St Mungo’s. So really it must have gone better than I thought.”

Harry let out a laugh and answered softly. “She threw some stuff. Moved to her Mother’s. Fair enough really. I don’t think she’s told anyone about you, I think if she had I’d have heard about it.”

Draco stroked his back. “I was going to suggest we leave it a few months, once you’d left her,” he admitted. “But then last night I decided that I didn’t have the patience, and neither did you.”

“No,” Harry agreed. “I might have made it a week… if I hadn’t had to see you at any point. Although maybe not, seeing as Ginny knew anyway.” He paused. “I wasn’t expecting that though.”

Draco smiled his half smile. “No time like the present, they say.”

“Well, here’s to the present,” said Harry, and kissed him.


End file.
